


I fall to pieces when I'm with you

by etherealkids



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Boys In Love, Closeted Character, Coming of Age, Daryl is 16, Feelings, Internal Conflict, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Rick is 19, Sharing a Room, Slow Build, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealkids/pseuds/etherealkids
Summary: Something about Daryl didn't sit well with Rick. Something he couldn't understand or explain. That's how he felt about his inner desires, he couldn't understand, nor could he ever explain them.





	1. I don't know what I'm supposed to do

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first published work after being reading on this site for years, man, did it take me long! I hope you enjoy it.

The day he arrived was a grey, cloudy one.

Rick sat in front of the TV, fidgeting, paying attention to anything but the low rumble of the program he was watching. Well, "watching". He just needed something to keep himself occupied with that wasn't the uncomfortable feeling he had in his gut. His parents were to come any moment, and not alone. They'd be bringing Daryl with them.

He knew Daryl only for the pics his dad showed him and his mother claimed they would get along just fine. "He's gonna be staying with us for a while"she'd said. A while, as in a year and a half, that involved sharing a room and coexisting with a boy whose he knew only the basics of. It would be like university, Rick thought optimistically at first — that was until he found out Daryl had recently lost his parents to a car accident, had a brother in jail and  _did not_ want to live in his house. His mother had been adamant about the whole situation, being the kind-hearted woman she was; said she couldn't and wouldn't let the younger of Sarah's sons alone. She'd known Daryl's mother from some boarding school they shared when they were young and completely lost it when his dad came home from the police department one day telling them Will Dixon and his wife had died. She spent the rest of the evening crying in her room, and his dad told him then, when he asked why was his mom so touched by the situation, about how the only reason his mother and Sarah stopped seeing each other was Will Dixon.

The decision of Daryl moving in had not been easy. Not for his dad at least. It was a huge commitment,  _it is,_ and if his mother won the discussion at last it was because they already knew Daryl from the times he accompanied his mom to the P.D. and he wasn't a problematic kid, besides the fact that he had Rick's mom's best friend running through his veins clearly. Although he despised cops dearly, Rick heard it from his dad's mouth;  _I don't think he's gonna like living here all that much, Melissa, I don't want trouble._ _The boy burns hole into my skull every time I go to his house!_

But his mom had a bigger point,  _He's a boy, you said it yourself! He's devastated, you know he looked after his mother even more than Sarah cared for herself these days, we cannot let him grow up to be like his dad or brother, Mark. And boarding schools, they're mostly hideous, I do know that._

Maybe he overheard a little too much that night. 

Rick was familiarized with the surname Dixon. The father had been pressed charges for domestic abuse and public disturb more times that he was able to count. Merle Dixon was arrested for possession of drugs and burglary. His dad always had conversations with him about what went on in the P.D. Hopes of his son following his steps never leaving. Maybe he thought they worked as a sort of advice or guide for him, but it only ever convinced him more and more to stray from that path. He didn't want to deal with people like Will or Merle Dixon for a living. 

And now he was going to live with one of their kin. 

It wasn't that he didn't feel sorry for the boy, he did. But he didn't know if he could handle someone like him if he was anything like his brother or father. He hadn't seen him personally of course, he wasn't about to judge, he just wanted to be cautious since there was no turning back. His dad moved the wires with an attorney urged on by his sulking wife and so the Court determined Daryl could live with them until reached his adulthood at eighteen years old. They had to check in on him every few months and whatnot. His mother was happy about it and she was sure they could work it out together as a family, and well, both him and his father found it hard to argue against it. 

He sighed, morphing from nervous to impatient quickly, wanting to get the extension of it done. And just in time he heard a car parking outside and his mother's voice approaching, making him turn his head towards the entry door which soon swung open. 

His dad got in, holding the door open while nodding his head like asking for Rick to get up and he immediately did. His mom entered the house and then, smiling at the boy behind her, she assured; "You can come in, don't be shy." Rick raised an eyebrow expectantly. 

Finally a figure materialized through the door; slim, snow pale and barely slouching. He looked quite the same as he did in the pics Rick had seen. His head was a whirlwind of brown hair, the grey sweater he wore seemed small sized and still it hung loose from his shoulders and his dark jeans didn't grant any form to his legs. The first thought that came to Rick's mind was  _fragile._ But when he looked at him directly in the face and into those icy pair of blue eyes, he really saw it. Fierce. 

He knew Daryl wasn't all that happy and excited to live there with them, and his face gave it away. 

His dad spoke first, "I'm gonna go grab the bags, be right back." 

"I can do it myself—"

"Oh let him, Daryl. He's got it. Don't worry okay?" she cut him mid sentence and the other didn't seem to know how to object. The older man showed a small smile reassuringly, as he closed the door and his mother began the introduction.

"Daryl, this is my son," she began and Rick offered him a candid smile.

"Hey. Name's Rick."

Daryl simply nodded once and continued to look at the nearest wall, probably trying to seem observant in order to be left alone. His mom never gave space to silence though. She clapped her hands and it caught Daryl's attention abruptly, Rick noticed the semi-flinch and how the boy looked at his mother as if waiting for directions. She smiled broadly, not taking notice. 

"Well guys, excuse me but I have to take care of dinner. Honey why don't you show Daryl the room, please?" she turned to the younger, "I'll tell Mark to go upstairs with your things so you can unpack before eating, if that's fine?"

He nodded half-heartedly in response, before grimacing and murmuring "Sure. Thank you."

That made Rick's mother lighten up even more. 

"Okay then, off you go." and with that she got lost in the kitchen leaving them alone. 

"Over here," Rick said softly, going up the stairs way slower than he was used to, to let the boy follow him quietly. 

Rick's room was average. He had a bed, some posters, a shelf with books and a wardrobe wall. Now there was an extra bed, right under the window where Rick's couch used to be, and that couch had been moved to the basement. Not that it bothered him, he hardly used it, it was more of a decoration thing than anything else. 

He closed the door out of sheer habit. Second-guessing for a minute what he should say, out of all things, he foolishly chose "Make yourself at home," and it made Daryl look at him guardedly.

Rick didn't find a reason to smile because he knew the minor just wouldn't buy it, so instead he kept talking like he usually did when nervous — why would a kid make him nervous?

"That's my bed, there's your bed, and the bathroom is next door. My parent's room is downstairs so, bathroom's really not a problem, they have their own." 

Meanwhile Daryl stood in front of the wardrobe, seemingly analyzing it. Despite its large size it wasn't fancy, it had permanent scratch marks from the times he and Shane tried carving their names in it, the bottom left drawer was broke so it didn't completely fit inside, but Daryl looked at it like it was a masterpiece meant for a show off at a museum. Rick didn't mention it, resuming his talk.

"I, huh," he approached the right door of the wardrobe and opened it, hearing Daryl take a few steps backwards. "I made room for your stuff."

He looked at him, as the boy's eyes roamed around the empty space, unfazed. 

"Don't need so much." he muttered without meeting his gaze. 

"Oh it's okay. I don't use much either." responded Rick. "I hope you don't mind, you know, sharing a room and stuff..."

That earned him suddenly a confused glance from the other. His eyes gleaming under his bags of hair, regarding Rick incredulously.

"Aren't I the one supposed to say that?" he scoffed under his breath, but everything was so quiet that it was heard anyways. "Your mum probably breathin' down your neck, right?"

Rick frowned, "No, she isn't," he was quick to point out. "Ain't no one forcing manners on me." he added. Strangely enough he didn't want to come off as too polite. It would only bug Daryl, he could feel it. 

"Manners..." Daryl repeated with deliberation, chuckling in a way that told Rick he wasn't amused at all. "We both know I don't belong here. This ain't "home" for me. No matter how much manners y'all wanna throw in, I'm the dog you picked up from the street ." 

He considered not answering, letting the boy have his way. He was going through a hard patch and Rick understood, he really did. But he couldn't. If they were gonna live together they'd have to be in good terms, under  _Rick's_ terms, while they were in his room at least. Otherwise he considered Daryl would just grow colder and meaner. No. They couldn't have that.

"Okay, look." he said loud and clear, making use of his broader stance. "I can't even  _begin_ to understand how you feel, but I do hope you feel welcomed here, 'cause we want you to be comfortable around us."

"Damn right you can't." Daryl said. "Don't expect ya to. Just like I don't expect some kinda special treatment just for, what? Havin' no one to legally care for my ass now?" he spat, careful not to scream, hissing every word out like they were poison and he resembled a snake. "I don't need it. Never needed it. So sorry for takin' up your space but I didn't ask for it, don't you act like you asked for it either."

The door opened.

"Hey, brought your things. Wanna unpack now or after we have dinner?" his dad asked.

Rick let the breath he was holding go slowly. Daryl was still stiff with the argument fresh on his lips, and didn't turn to face the man, but since he was piercing Rick with his eyes and knew he could say nothing without probably bursting into flames, he answered with the loudest voice that he had mustered up until then.

"After dinner is fine."

And just like that he retreated from the room, Rick's dad following him with his eyes as he went, and both him and Rick heard the angry footsteps going down the stairs. Then he turned to his son.

"I have no idea what you said to him but be sure not to say it again, we on the same page?" 

Rick was fast to forget the previous moment, replacing the bitterness with indignation.

"I didn't say anything bad, come on."

But his dad blew him off, leaving the two backpacks worth of Daryl's belongings right before him.

"Let these on his bed and come down." he said before going away. 

Throwing his head back and rubbing his temple Rick huffed, frustrated with how the first conversation turned out, he looked down at the backpacks and took them to Daryl's side. Great start, Grimes. Great damn start.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of a filler, to fill you in on what happened. Kind of long for a filler but I hope you stick with me if you read and like it :)


	2. the road is long, we carry on

Dinner went by uneventful. The most heard voice was his mother's, followed by his father's, and both spoke with great enthusiasm about nonsense. 

Rick didn't utter a word but nobody seemed to care. Daryl got all the questions, and dismissed them all by shrugging, muttering short sentences to his mother pointedly and limiting his eyesight to his own plate. Watching him then nobody would guess he had a mouth on him. Rick knew better than that now. 

He could see his parents tried hard to ease the boy into feeling relaxed, and awkwardness aside; he didn't come up with any other way to carry on. They all had to get used to it, specially Daryl. It was implied how he was expected to act too, he should add to the chatter much like his dad was currently doing — which was strange even for Rick, since he was more of the watch-tv-talk-later type of guy. However, he saw right through what they couldn't. The vibrating laughter, casual questions, the attention; it clearly wasn't something Daryl enjoyed. He thought back to what he'd said before, no matter how much manners they showed, Daryl wouldn't cease his resistance just like that. Maybe deep inside he did feel grateful and hid it strongly, but Rick couldn't really tell.

He had to remind himself of the circumstances the boy was in, and he truly meant not being able to fully understand it, not only the tragedy he was going through but also the one he was trapped in before. Because Rick was no fool. He might have almost lost his scant patience, but he just felt so exasperated for having no clue as to what to say or how to act towards him, not wanting to set him off — now he didn't want to set him off more than he already had. He must tread on eggshells. 

The moment dinner ended he left for the bathroom to take a shower, and once he was over he remembered the new toothbrush still on his package, laying right above the mirror cabinet where his mother placed it. It was for Daryl. He figured he'd give it to him, since him casually taking it with no invitation was likely not going to happen. Toweling his hair to no avail, he gave up on smoothing his curls and went to his room, finding Daryl sitting on his bed, backpacks undone and a pack of cigarettes on his hands. 

Oh.

Daryl didn't get scared nor tried to conceal the item, looking at Rick with no words. The older boy closed the door again with the hand that wasn't holding the toothbrush, licking his lips.

"'Those yours?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

His roommate shook his head negatively, "Found them on one of my dad's shirts. Your dad packed my stuff, I was at the police station." he explained. Looking down at the pack he added, "I don' smoke."

Although the other was not watching him Rick nodded in understanding. He didn't think Daryl was lying, he had quite a sixth sense for deception. Shane Walsh was his best friend, how could he not?

"My dad must've thrown it in with your stuff on accident." he commented so he wasn't completely silent about it.

"'S whatever, I won't use it anyways." but he continued to look at the pack, not lifting his eyes, and Rick wondered if he was talking about the shirt or about the cigarettes. He didn't ask, clearing his throat to be noticed again. 

Nada.

"The water's hot if you'd like to grab a shower." he decided to just say it, leaving the idea of keeping a consistent conversation going as he padded to his own bed and crossing  _normal exchange_ off his to-do list with the boy. At least, he could learn how to treat him so they had a congenial environment to live in, if anything. 

Daryl didn't answer.

"Would you like me to take that pack?" Rick asked despite himself, ready to get into bed and sleep it all away. That captured Daryl's attention, and Rick kind of wasn't ready for the way those cold eyes shot his way or the quote that pursued.

"I'm not gonna keep them, don't you worry your curly head." 

Rick laughed indignantly, "Is my hair so messy?" he brushed his head with a hand, feeling it was still damp, and he didn't really expect an answer. 

The boy didn't laugh, but Rick noticed the little tug at his lips, and it was beyond pleasing knowing he wasn't considering chopping his head off anymore. Or so it seemed. 

He watched him get up with some other thing on his hand — a light brown flannel, that he tossed quickly under the bed along with the pack of cigarettes, and he was about to leave when Rick prompted him to stop. 

"Wait," he exclaimed, and when Daryl looked at him he felt at a loss.

He wanted to apologize for the episode previous to dinner, he knew that. But didn't know why, or how; he kept quiet a few seconds and Daryl surprisingly stood still on his place, patiently. 

"What happened before dinner," he began, pausing to see if Daryl objected or wanted to say something, which he never did, so Rick kept going. "I didn't ask for this, you were right." 

Daryl's face barely decayed into a frown, making Rick amend himself. 

"I didn't ask for what happened, okay?" he tried again, "I do want you to be comfortable here. I know my parents look like they try too hard, but they don't mean no bad. I don't, either, man," Rick sighed, not knowing how to end his little rant. "I wanna be your friend if you let me." he concluded, because it was true and it was as coherent as it got. The other boy tough, looked conflicted. 

"I..." Daryl started, and after a long second he shrugged. "I don't really care." 

Rick realized he himself had been frowning slightly. He said;

"It's okay. I mean, I don't know. We're gonna be seeing each other more often than not, you know?"

"I  _know_."

"And I wanna be on good terms, that's all."

They had a moment of quietude. Daryl finally rolled his eyes.

"Fine." he granted, Rick thought it was better than nothing. 

He made to leave once again and Rick suddenly remembered.

"Hey, this is yours by the way." he showed him the brush, extending his hand as an invitation for Daryl to take it. 

The boy, not questioning it, walked slowly as always towards where Rick was sitting with a bare foot on the floor and one naked leg bent on the bed. He took the brush and nodded, close to a "thank you". He then took the pair of sweatpants and shirt he had on his bed and left the room, leaving Rick behind.

An onslaught of thoughts rushed through Rick's mind as soon as he heard the door closing. 

He felt strangely good with himself. Proud for being able to make Daryl change his mind about the situation. Well, he hoped he had. Everything would turn out more bearable for him if he just stopped thinking he was a burden. Not a moment since his parents told him he'd move with them did Rick complain about stuff like sharing a bedroom, or space, he didn't even care if he had to lend him things or clothes — it didn't cross his mind. He was aware of what had to be done because his mom told him. She didn't prepare him, but she told him about how Daryl would be "hard to get to" at first. 

And he was. 

But Rick felt much better now than he did earlier, hell, even better than before Daryl arrived at all. 

He flopped down on his bed, the dim light of his ceiling lamp almost lulling him to sleep, and when he closed his eyes feeling relaxation  _finally_ taking over he heard a sound.

It was the water running, next door. It was the only sound he could hear. He didn't know his walls were thin enough for that, Shane had never showered when he crashed there, he said he found it 'weird' and besides he never stayed for more than a day.

Rick turned to lay on his side, closed his eyes again and wondered if he should drape himself with a blanket in case he felt cold later since he was wearing short pants. He kept listening closely to the water running, and as if it were raining outside, he let himself drift off to the sound of it; not caring about the blanket in the end.

He was feeling warm enough inside. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyy this one is shorter than the first one I think :/ thank you so much for the kudos and the comments, they're really a good fuel! this was originally going to be a one shot but I decided I didn't want to wait and get frustrated over it AND end up deleting it, I think I made the right choice by posting it. I don't know how long it will be though haha. if you notice any mistakes please let me know, english isn't my first language so there's going to be multiple typos, I try to fix most of them though! again, thank you, please leave a comment if you like it <3


	3. there's no remedy for memory

Usually, Rick wouldn't remember his dreams when he woke up. He could count with one hand the amount of dreams he recalled having. Only one of them was a nightmare, and he thinks he's had it when he was a child: a shade chased after him, as he ran under a black sky in a dark world illuminated only by large lightning strikes. He didn't know if the shade was big, or small, or why it followed him out of all people. He only knew it called his name continuously. It never stopped. Rick, Rick, Rick. And the thunders, they were frightening to the point he froze because of one at some point, feeble knees hitting the ground, he started to weep uncontrollably — he woke up feeling his whole self go rigid with fear.

When he woke up this time he immediately sensed something was wrong.

The lights were off, and he was cold, yes. But that wasn't it.

Shifting, he almost dozed off a second time when he heard a muffled sob that startled him until he realized it was Daryl and — fuck, Daryl was crying.

Rick blinked a few times trying to make out his figure in the darkness, and saw he had his back turned to Rick. He also noticed it was raining outside. Daryl stirred softly, and he could hear he was still crying faintly. Not knowing what to do to help, or even if anything he did would be helpful, he didn't dare moving an inch. Hi limbs ached, he felt remorse nagging him when he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he didn't hear him. What could he do? Daryl hadn't shown no sign of grief, probably waiting for the night to come so he was able to let go of his harsh facade. So he could cry without being seen, or heard. Rick failed him at that last part.

He let minutes pass, convincing himself he had no right to irrupt his mourning. He simply let the boy be. But then he heard a sharp intake of breath, Daryl's figure jolted up, propping up on his hands as his chest heaved hastily up and down. Now that was something Rick could irrupt into.

He sat up on his bed and waited seconds for Daryl to compose himself, which didn't happen, choked out sobs kept escaping his mouth worrying the older of them.

"Bud, something wrong?" he tentatively asked, seeing if he could catch his attention.

He received no answer. Instead, Daryl seemed to stiffen even more, probably taken aback by his voice. He continued to inhale and exhale nervous, shallow breaths; making Rick think he was hardly holding it together and most likely not good at all. There _was_ something wrong.

Not thinking twice he rose to his feet and drew near to the other leisurely, not wanting to intimidate him; he knelt on the cold floor by Daryl's bed. Not even from that distance could he properly see his face, nor could he tell if he had his eyes open or closed, if he was still crying or not. All he noticed was his quivering form and his heaving torso, his mere attempt at keeping himself steady.

He felt tempted to ask something, do something, but then doubted himself. He thought of patting his back but it'd be ludicrous, hugging was not on the table. He just sat there at the mercy of whatever the boy needed from him — if he needed anything. Not that he had much to offer, but he so hoped his presence was at least reassuring.

"Take it easy, slow down." He said softly, not to nettle the boy.

A sob escaped Daryl's throat, followed by a disgruntled groan and all of a sudden he was crying again. That if he'd ever stopped. It made Rick felt uneasy, and useless for just being there waiting for directions as if the minor was in position to give any. His hands twitched and he felt the need of moving, so he stood up and he was able to notice Daryl's head tilt the tiniest bit towards him. He sat on the bed, right beside the boy's covered legs. Then, he tried to coax Daryl into looking at him, searching his glance; but there was no case because he had his shoulders sagged and his hair fell on his forehead, head tilted down. Rick worried his bottom lip, thinking.

"Do you wanna tell me what's wrong?" he asked.

Daryl sighed in a way Rick deemed was the final string pulled.

"Go back to sleep." Daryl said sounding exhausted rather than annoyed. Rick would have obliged if he wasn't feeling so stubborn.

"It's okay if you don't want to, but I wanna know, really."

The boy retired both his hands from the bed and drove them to his face, rubbing and covering, _mostly_ covering. When he let them fall to his lap again, he spoke.

"Just a bad dream. 'S all."

"Figured, yeah. But," he began, but found no words to use in order not to upset Daryl. Having no lie to make up for it either, he finished his sentence. "But do you wanna talk about it? I don't mind."

Raindrops hit the ceiling, preventing the recurrent silence from making things awkward. Rick could see them behind Daryl's head, through the thin curtain, splashing against the window. One after the other. They made a good distraction while the boy painstakingly worded his thoughts.

"Can you turn on the light?" was the first thing he requested, nearly whispering, so Rick got up to switch the lights on and he finally saw Daryl.

He was a mess, to say the least, but oddly enough not in a bad way. He looked so wan, his eyes shone with unshed tears and the purplish eye bags under them hadn't been noticed by Rick before. He sat on the bed again, this time making sure he was at a reasonable distance. He thought of how dim the light was, he'd have to change its bulb. He worried about whether the rain was or not filtrating up in the attic. He thought he heard a thunder in the distance and grimaced. He kept his mind busy waiting for Daryl to speak.

And Daryl, he didn't look at him. He sat with his legs crossed, occupying little space on the bed. Rick knew it wasn't an invitation for him to get comfortable, it was a warning. He was on his side and Rick must stay at the other end of the bed on his side. For starters, he wasn't about to get closer than that anyways, maybe he considered offering physical support before but it was kind of the only few options he had to choose from. Perhaps if he tried even touching one of Daryl's hairs he would've unleashed the depths of hell.

Just when he started thinking Daryl didn't really want to talk to him, and that he probably just asked for him to turn on the light because of whatever eerie thing invaded his dreams, he opened his mouth.

"I don't want a pity party." he stated firmly.

Rick didn't find it on him to start an argument, he simply nodded.

"Got it. That's not what this is about though."

Daryl soaked these words in and swallowed, almost imperceptibly, almost.

"Not the first time I got a nightmare, I just kinda lost it this time." he said.

Rick was paying attention to every little gesture. Daryl wouldn't look at him. Rick wanted him to. He wanted to know how to approach him without it resulting in chaos, and walking through the chaos first seemed to be the only way to get the hang of it.

"Was it about your parents?"

He saw him clench his jaw, hands turning into fits until he relaxed again.

"What'd you know about 'em?" he scoffed, "Besides the obvious fact."

Rick knew it was a rhetorical question but sarcasm was Daryl's language apparently, he could learn to live with it.

"I only know what my folks told me." he answered sincerely. It didn't do much for the other boy.

"Daddy cop, almost forgot," he murmured. "Well, that ain't half the shit I do know. Ain't half the shit I lived," he tightened his lips, like trying to restrain himself from spilling any more of his thoughts. Rick didn't question anything. All the time looking down at his own hands, Daryl shook his head. "It wasn't about the crash." he finally said.

"What was it about?" Rick prodded, and he observed as the boy closed his eyes and sucked in as much air as he could into his lungs. His shirt stuck to his ribs, it was too small even for him, and Rick observed; Daryl opened his eyes and the same gleam from before reigned on his sky blue orbs, reminding him of the rain outside, he observed, the briefest glimpse of sadness blazing within.

"It was about my mom and my pathetic excuse for a dad, way before."

Rick wished he could take it all back, _shit, shit, fucking shit,_ he wished he would have kept his goddamn mouth shut. Because even though Daryl wasn't crying anymore, he could see no trace of the unwieldy boy he was — or the one he pretended to be. All he saw was pure tiredness, a sore expression begging for him to stop talking already, he looked so damn overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," Rick blurted out .

"Of course you are."

"No, for real," not resisting it, Rick pulled closer, willing Daryl to look at him. He got his way, but only to be glared at and man. He deserved it. "I mean everything I say, Daryl. I'm sorry for your loss, I'm sorry for pushing so fucking much."

Daryl grimaced, his face completely waning. He didn't even bolt as Rick thought he would. It was the first time he looked at him straight in the eye.

"What can ya do?" he shrugged.

Rick bit his lip, again, not knowing what to say, he felt to bad for Daryl and not knowing how to help filled him with frustration. Knowing he was making things harder just made him feel worse. If he were any more sensitive he would be unrightfully crying already just out of utter vexation.

"I don't know, just tell me." he said, with every ounce of honesty he was able to convey.

Daryl sighed, brushing rebel bangs off his forehead. "I've been actin' like a real complete piece of scumbag, huh?" he mentioned out of the blue, making Rick frown.

"What?"

He shrugged again.

"'S just that everything's so..." he trailed off, his eyes leaving Rick to concentrate on some spot in the wall. "...weird."

Oh. _Oh_. He understood.

"Well, you've got yer reasons," Rick reasoned, but was sharply cut off.

"Man, ya hear yourself?" Daryl blinked the remaining tears back for once, looking at him. "I ain't here on vacation, quit the butterin' up shit."

"The hell I just said to you about meaning what I say?" Rick said, louder, not to come off as gruff but because he did feel frustrated still.

It worked to make Daryl stop arguing, but damn, Rick didn't want him to stop talking.

"I bet it's weird, but it's your first time here, Daryl. You'll get used to it, don't make it harder on yourself."

He hoped Daryl was paying him any heed, since it didn't look quite like it. His eyes got lost on the distance, and when he left the little trance he went into, he threw him an uncaring expression.

"Easy to say hard to do." and with that, he laid backwards, falling into the mattress ungracefully. Rick accepted the message, watching Daryl move to lay on his side; he had been dismissed. He didn't move for a while, wondering how did Daryl manage to breathe so quietly as his chest rose and fell. Probably the rain played a part on it. He wondered if he was used to controlling his breath, his whole self so quickly after episodes like the one he just had. He wanted to ask, just a crap excuse to keep talking with him, but remembered Daryl's tired face and how late it was and let the words die on his tongue.

When he got up once again he turned the lights off, walked to his bed, covered himself with a blanket, closed his eyes and — Daryl hadn't covered himself with a blanket.

Rick turned on his side disposed to return to Daryl's side if he was sleeping just to cover him, not willing to wake him up again, but surprisingly saw the minor had already fully covered his body without making a sound. 

Without a real reason, he kept staring. 

It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

[...]

"Morning! How did you sleep?" 

Rick's mother effusively greeted her guest as he shuffled his way through the kitchen's door, making Rick turn his head as well. 

In the few hours he got to know Daryl he jumped to quite a handful of conclusions about him. Not to judge, just to comprehend him. One thing he noticed at dinner, was that Daryl could seem ready to pounce any moment most of the time, but not around his mom. When she was near it gave Rick the impression that he tried to behave, or well, that he  _did_ feel safe enough as to  _not_ misbehave. He couldn't explain it precisely. 

"Good." Daryl answered shortly, the smallest and more polite of smiles on his face. 

What a  _lie_.

Not that Rick could decry him.

Since he looked halting, the woman invited him closer, pushing a chair back.

"Sit here, I made brewed coffee. Would you like some milk?"

Rick had to hide a lopsided smile when he saw the boy didn't seem to know what to reply to first. 

"Hey, sit down." he told him on the low, hoping it didn't come off authoritative. 

Daryl did, staring down at him, although Rick deduced he was feeling out of place. 

"Huh, no milk."

"Well, you prefer it just like Mark does, raw." she commented, as she laid a cup of coffee and a plate of toasts in front of him. "I hope you like cranberries jam."

If it was something he had every other day, it didn't seem so. He looked at Rick's mom and with a soft voice he said, "Thanks" and the way his mom smiled, had Rick feeling out of place instead, and he observed with wary eyes as Daryl started sipping. He scolded himself, feeling selfish; but he had to admit he enjoyed watching that side of the other boy, and wondered if the bond his mom apparently managed to strike up with him could be the same bond he and Daryl shared someday. 

He frowned. What even were these thoughts?

"Rick, what were you saying?" his mom addressed him, making him react.

"Of what?" 

"Before, what were you saying? something about going to watch Shane's practice?" she reminded him.

"Oh, oh yeah," he nodded. "I promised him I'd go see him today. He's getting ready for a game next month, I think." 

"That's nice! it's been a while since you last watched the team play, don't you think?" she said, then started munching on a toast, differently from Daryl who just sipped from his cup, and avoided engaging in conversation entirely.

"He just wants to drag me to the field again." he said, "I told him I don't want to join them again, but you  _know_ Shane..."

"Watching a practice won't do you no harm,"  _did_ his mom know Shane? "What time will that be?" 

"In about, an hour or so."

"You could take Daryl with you!" she chipped in gleefully, and when Rick's eyes moved to see Daryl, one of the teen's eyebrows had shot up, his hands slowly retiring the mug from his lips.

"I—I'm not sure," if what he saw on the other's eyes was reluctance, he was sure he'd appreciate Rick's words and not take offense on them.

"Why not? you could introduce him to Shane, walk around town. He'll be bored staying here with me all day." she laughed. "What do you think Daryl?" and it wasn't really a way out, she wasn't requiring his opinion, she just wanted his support. 

Rick winced on behalf of the conflicted teen.

"I guess?" he conceded.

"See?"

Rick wanted to just tell her not to look so smug, as if Daryl wasn't nearly rolling his eyes to the sky already. He just sighed and shrugged. 

"I guess." he repeated his roommate's words, apologizing to him with his eyes, but Daryl just squinted at him with his everlasting scowl.

A long day ahead and a pissed off Daryl by his side, Rick excused himself to his room to change from his sleeping clothes, and once he made it inside he actually thought about picking those cigarettes up from under the boy's bed. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's me (again) I'm actually satisfied with the length of this one, and let me share a secret with you. you know how I said this was going to be a one shot? well I couldn't just throw the R-rated content in without giving them any background, and yeah, feelings happened. I can't help it, sigh. but we'll get to the cherry on top soon! hang in here with me ;)

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a filler, to fill you in on what happened. Kind of long for a filler but I hope you stick with me if you read and like it :)


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